Transitions of the Heart
“Memories of Scrappy” an interview with Benjamin Conn
Transitions into adulthood through
passages of the Heart
“It is amazing how much love and laughter they bring into our lives and even how much closer we become with each other because of them.”
She came into our lives on Christmas Eve. A firefighter and his wife were getting a divorce and they were unable to keep the dog because of the 48 hours shifts of the firefighter. Michael found out about this and asked me if we had room in our lives for another dog. “Of course we do!” (I may have a problem with the number of pets in my household and in my life) but the truth is—this little girl added to our lives as much as we did to hers.
Eventually taking on the names: Scrapalicious, Scrap-a-doodle, Puppy cat, Scrapanator, Scraps, Yogda, Doodle, Twinkle Toes, Prancer, Scrapscicle, Licious - her name befitted her personality. She was indeed durable despite her size.
The kids were acolytes at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church Christmas Eve when Michael snuck out of the pew between a formal procession of acolytes and priests down the aisle; the kids never saw him leave. As far as they understood, we walked them into church and walked them out. The delivery of Scrappy was clearly a Santa delivery.
“One of my first memories of Scrappy was the first night that she came to us,” Benjamin recalls. (He was 12-years old at the time of her delivery)
“But how?” they asked over and over again, “It wasn’t even midnight!!”
“Christmas Eve.”
He pauses, reflecting on the thought.
“We wanted to sleep with her but dad was nervous because she was a new puppy, less than a year old.”
“She needs to get used to us and the house,” Michael instructs.
“Let us just get used to each other at a comfortable pace.”
“I remember that after Scrappy calmed down a bit in her kennel located in our room, she began to snore!” Benjamin giggled at this.
“Abigail and I were sleeping in the same room that night, the excitement of having a new little one in the room was palpable.”
“But… he paused, she snored SO LOUD that night! For such a little girl, she made an enormous sound!”
Benjamin becomes quiet again. Sitting still with his solemn thoughts and vivid memories. I can tell he is juggling to balance the feelings of his loss in REAL time in living out the memories from the past.
“Her ears were often the first thing to catch my tears.”
“What happens to a child when they grow into adulthood? Do the memories of what once WAS remain vibrant in the past, or do they grow old with me?” Benjamin asks me. I listen and continue to take notes. I couldn’t really find an answer for him, and suppose if I did - would it be accurate? I waited again for his thoughts and feelings to catch up to this moment.
“One of my favorite places to sit was in the living room under the window. I’d play “Illegal fetch” with Scrappy by throwing anything in reach. I toss it into the dining room to watch her skid across the floor crashing into the china hutch.” He stops mid thought.
“I knew mom would kill me if any dishes came crashing down, but somehow this never deterred any members of the family, including me, to cease playing indoor fetch with our own personal Mighty Scrappy Mouse.” He pauses again and then starts to snicker while being reminded of another memory.
“The moment she’d return, toy in mouth and upon stepping on the rug, her front paws would, almost awkwardly, stretch out to reach me. Her gait would change and with consistency she extended her front legs out toward me. Eventually dropping her toy, the process would begin again, repeating over and over. Each time taking the china hutch risk, each time altering her gait when the terrain changed. It was our game, our form of communication.”
I am a firm believer that the bond we have between us and our dogs is something to be celebrated even after they have passed over the bridge.
Scrappy is exhausted after a game of “illegal fetch” in the living and dining room. Her chewed up toy still in her mouth - sound asleep.
“By far, however, my most treasured memories are of our walks in our neighborhood,” Benjamin tells me in a room of quiet background music setting the tone for his next story to emerge.
“ I always think about our walks through the cemetery.”
Our whole family loves walking through the cemetery located 3 blocks away. I’ve written about it before; it’s the largest municipal cemetery within the United States; and… it’s illegal to walk your dog off leash - another illegal Scrappy act.
Oy!
“Abigail and I would release Scrappy from her leash and she would take off like a bullet trying to keep up with her brother and sister! She barks and runs, runs and barks, taking two steps to each one of theirs. Low to the ground, her streamline flight would make her an efficient runner enabling her to keep up with her larger breed long-legged siblings,” Benjamin proudly described.
Anticipating the next part of the story, Benjamin paused to laugh and then continued.
“As fate would have it, her eyesight started to fail her. But it didn’t slow her down much.
As described, she would be released from her leash and take off running across the cemetery. Frighteningly, she on occasion would hit a gravestone while fleeing across the acres.This sudden impact didn’t slow her down much but instead would catapult her into the air. Literally tail over paws, a perfect aerial circumference; a triple flip with a double spin ending with a backflip - Scrappy landed on all four paws without losing any momentum. She continued on her way, full speed. Standing aghast, mouth wide open and barely breathing, we were to discover that Scrappy survived the feat without a single vet visit. No broken bones.”
“Then she began showing signs of growing old. But did this mean, well, did it mean that I too was growing up?”
“Our traditions continued season to season, year to year. In the Autumn season we would rake a huge leaf pile in front of the house. As a test of her determination, I would throw a ball into the leaf pile to see if she would jump in and much like a heat-seeking missile, Scrappy would hunt for the ball. Similar to a mysterious underground giant worm, Scrappy would move the mound of freshly fallen leaves and like magic, would re-emerge for oxygen with, of course, a ball in her mouth.”
“During the summer,” Benjamin recalled, “we would travel east across the country or west to the Pacific Ocean. As we loaded into the back of the Tahoe, Dad would say, ‘Watch your toes, Watch your nose.’ As he closed the back window securing all the animals in the rear of the vehicle, he called out this reminder to each of the puppies to stand back as he secured the window latch shut.” Benjamin becomes lost in the journeys while recalling each detail.
Fearless throughout our journeys, Scrappy went everywhere with us. The beach, hiking trails, mountain cabins, road trips, Michigan lakes … Sand dunes in Los Osos. She demonstrated zero fear. She simply wanted to be a part of the fun.
Benjamin was 12 when Scrappy came into his life. He was a young person undergoing a coming-of-age rite of passage. Scrappy left his life when he was 25 years old. In the article How to Help Young People Transition Into Adulthood, author Betty Ray suggests that meaningful rites of passage are not as common today. In fact, she writes, “75 percent of people between the ages of 12 and 25 lack a clear sense of purpose and many young adults are intimidated by “adulting”where they must leave their ‘normal world’ (separation) and enter into a situation where they experience the free-fall of being no longer a child but not yet an adult (liminality).
“Once the initiate has successfully mastered the liminal phase, they return to the normal world as an adult (reincorporation), having ‘leveled up’ with skills that are needed to function as a healthy member of the community.”
Scrappy was Benjamin’s rite of passage into adulthood with her aging and life journey. His deep relationship with her made this passage meaningful. Maybe our jobs as adults is to ensure these rites of passage as passages of the heart for young adults.
In winter, Abigail would dress her up with several layers of jackets, sweaters and even doggy booties (which never stayed on her paws very long, but it was always worth the moments of comedy to watch her walk with them on). We loved taking walks up Millcreek Canyon in the winter when they closed the roads.
There are moose up the canyon for which we try to spot each year. I read once that Moose have a long term affinity to their chosen home range and may use the same wintering and summer ranges for their entire lives. When we see a Moose, we would often proclaim (without any factual evidence) that it was the same one each and every year.
Scrappy’s affinity for walking up the canyon road was received with much less enthusiasm, staggeringly different from the cemetery sprint experience. She just wanted to be held while we walked, so we obliged.
Benjamin laughs when I remind him of this.
As years progressed, both kids moved into their next rite of passage, living out of the house for many years. This entailed experiencing complete independence and the responsibilities that come with that, paying rent and bills, managing household chores and navigating the complications of self care. (Notice I am not writing the words hygiene; this is still a controversial topic with my adulting children!)
As Scrappy aged, noticing her changes became less subtle, requiring more attention and care. She developed cataracts and glaucoma and eventually had to have one eye removed. Her fur turned greyer and greyer and her diet wavered at times. Vet visits became more frequent and medication was prescribed more frequently. CBD for pets helped with her restless pacing and increased her comfort.
Benjamin and Abigail were a part of the decision making for each of these medical interventions and participated in her treatment.
But they were away a lot—living their lives, playing Dungeons and Dragons, working, traveling.
Michael and I became empty nesters, our own rite of passage. We continued the Cooperative Pet Care exchange with friends, each taking turns caring for each others’ beloved pets. In many ways, this was a welcoming reprieve from our 20-year stint of active parenting.
I started an after school class called “Animal Lovers” and introduced my middle school students to the various formats of pet therapy, foster and adoption care, rescue organizations, etc. Like scoring tickets to an anticipated popular touring musical concert, this program filled up electronically within minutes.
Children seek out animals and find them appealing and reassuring;
animals are often a source of comfort that children will confide in to process their feelings.
The passage of time made the milestones in our children’s lives obvious, but more so, perhaps in Benjamins.
Benjamin comments, “My body has changed, my digestion and ability to bounce back from unhealthy food choices is totally shot. Polishing off an entire pizza is long gone! I’m taking notice that being an adult means that I am now playing for real and not just pretending to be grown up.”
Benjamin recalls, “I remember when Scrappy’s humorous leaps to beds and couches transitioned from leaping events turning into leaping fails.”
With a softer voice, Benjamin begins to describe how “her leaps into the air to land on a warm and sunny spot began miscalculating the height and her confidence turned to fear midair. Then one day, she just chose sunny spots on the floor to stay warm.”
Holding her own with larger longer-legged siblings. Her adulting continued to assert itself by exerting her dominance through strength.
Like Tiny Tim’s cane laying alone in the corner of Cratchit’s household, Scrappy’s chariot rested on her pillow near the piano.
“Scrappy’s death feels like the mark indicating the ending of my childhood”
“On Scrappy’s last 24 hours alive,” Benjamin mourns, “it snowed that night. It was cold and I asked my family if I could snuggle with her that night.”
Like her first night in our home, 13 years prior when the kids slept in a shared room with a snoring little puppy, Benjamin relays his experience with her during their last night together.
“There was a lot of snow falling outside and my room was cold on the inside. But here she was, snuggled in my bed keeping me warm. It was our last night together and through it all, she was taking care of me.
“I love her so much.”
It is in the enduring love of those we lost that makes all our rites of passages beautiful and vital reflections.
